Second Chance Summer
Morgan Matson
PRAISE FOR MORGAN MATSON’S
Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour
“This is an incredible book—heartbreakingly funny and utterly un-put-down-able.”
—Lauren Myracle, New York Times bestselling author of Thirteen and ttyl
“One of the most touching, irresistible, and feel-good road trips
I’ve been on in a long, long while. Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour is a book to love.”
—Deb Caletti, National Book Award finalist
“A near perfect summer read that should leave
readers with a thirst for travel and romance.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“This entertaining and thoughtful summertime road trip serves up slices of
America with a big scoop of romance on the side.”—Kirkus Reviews
“If all road trips were like this, nobody’d ever stay home.”
—BCCB
Sandwiched between two exceptional siblings,
Taylor Edwards never felt like she stood out—except for her history of running away when things get too complicated. Then her dad receives unexpected, terrible news, and the family makes the last-minute decision to spend the summer together in the cramped quarters at their old lake house.
Taylor hasn’t been to the summerhouse since she was twelve, and she definitely never planned on going back. Up at the lake she is confronted with people she thought she left behind, like her former best friend Lucy, and Henry Crosby, her first crush, who’s all grown up… and a lot cuter. Suddenly Taylor is surrounded by memories she’d rather leave in the past—but she can’t run away this time.
As the days lying on the beach pass into nights gazing at the stars, Taylor realizes she has a second chance—with friends, with family, maybe even with love. But she knows that once the summer ends, there is no way to recapture what she stands to lose. From Morgan Matson, the PW Flying Start author of Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour, this is a remarkable new novel about hope in the face of heartbreaking grief.
A Junior Library Guild Selection
Morgan Matson
received her MFA in writing for children from the New School. She was named a Publishers Weekly Flying Start for her first book, Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour, and currently lives in Los Angeles. You can visit her at morganmatson.com.
Jacket design by Lucy Ruth Cummins
Jacket photograph of girl copyright © 2012 by Getty Images
Jacket photograph of lake copyright © 2012 by Thinkstock.com
Simon & Schuster • New York
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second
chance
summer
Also by Morgan Matson
Amy & Roger’s Epic Detour
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Morgan Matson
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Book design by Lucy Ruth Cummins
The text for this book is set in Adobe Caslon Pro.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Matson, Morgan.
Second chance summer / Morgan Matson.
p. cm.
Summary: Taylor Edwards’ family might not be the closest-knit—everyone is a little too busy and overscheduled—but for the most part, they get along just fine. Then Taylor’s dad gets devastating news, and her parents decide that the family will spend one last summer all together at their old lake house in the Pocono Mountains. Crammed into a place much smaller and more rustic than they are used to, they begin to get to know each other again. And Taylor discovers that the people she thought she had left behind haven’t actually gone anywhere. Her former best friend is still around, as is her first boyfriend… and he’s much cuter at seventeen than he was at twelve. As the summer progresses and the Edwards become more of a family, they’re more aware than ever that they’re battling a ticking clock. Sometimes, though, there is just enough time to get a second chance—with family, with friends, and with love.
ISBN 978-1-4169-9067-3 (hardback)
ISBN 978-1-4391-5752-7 (eBook)
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Family life—Pennsylvania—Fiction. 3. Terminally ill—Fiction. 4. Love—Fiction. 5. Pocono Mountains (Pa.) —Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M43151Sec 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2011052241
For Mom and Jason
Contents
Acknowledgments
Part 1: The Lake House
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four: Three Weeks Earlier
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part 2: Metamorphosis
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven: Five Summers Earlier
Part 3: Lost & Found
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen: Five Summers Earlier
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Part 4: Truth and Daring
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen: Five Summers Earlier
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One: Five Summers Earlier
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three: Five Summers Earlier
Part 5: The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Part 6: The Best of Times, The Worst of Times
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three: Seven Summers Earlier
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book wouldn’t have been possible without the incomparable Alexandra Cooper. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience and faith and brilliant editorial skills.
Thank you to all the wonderful people at S&S: Justin Chanda, Amy Rosenbaum, Anna McKean, Venessa Williams. And huge thank-you to Lucy Ruth Cummins for such a beautiful cover.
Rosemary Stimola, thank you for your agenting superpowers and your faith in the story from the start.
In the UK, thank you to Jane Griffiths, Kat McKenna, Mary-Anne Hampton, and Franca Bernatavicius.
Thank you to Lauren Strasnick, writing buddy extraordinaire, for your friendship and your invaluable help with this book.
Thank you to my mother, Jane Finn, for more things than I have room to list
here… but especially for all those magical Pennsylvania summers.
While this book was primarily written in Los Angeles, it was revised all over the place, and I owe a great deal of thanks to those who made that possible:
Thank you to Susan MacTavish-Best, for the use of her beautiful, artbedecked Mill Valley home. To Eric Berlow, for the use of his cabins in the Sierra Nevada—revising has never had such a gorgeous setting. And thank you to Nancy Quinn and Ginger Boyle, who made the house-renting process in the Poconos so easy.
Finally, and above all, I must gratefully acknowledge Alex MacDonald. Thank you so much for finding us revising cabins, making scrambles, cheering me on, and always knowing when ice cream was needed. I could never have done this without your support and encouragement.
Love is watching someone die
—DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE
The Lake House
chapter one
I EASED OPEN MY BEDROOM DOOR TO CHECK THAT THE HALLWAY was empty. When I was sure that it was, I shouldered my purse and closed the door behind me quietly, then took the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time. It was nine a.m., we were leaving for the lake house in three hours, and I was running away.
The kitchen counter was covered with my mother’s plentiful to-do lists, bags packed with groceries and supplies, and a box filled with my father’s orange prescription bottles. I tried to ignore these as I headed across the kitchen, aiming for the back door. Though I hadn’t snuck out in years, I had a feeling that it would be just like riding a bicycle—which, come to think of it, I also hadn’t done in years. But I’d woken up that morning in a cold sweat, my heart hammering, and every impulse I had telling me to leave, that things would be better if I were somewhere—anywhere—else.
“Taylor?” I froze, and turned around to see Gelsey, my twelve-year-old sister, standing at the other end of the kitchen. Even though she was still wearing her pajamas, an ancient set decorated with glittery pointe shoes, her hair was up in a perfect bun.
“What?” I asked, taking a step away from the door, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
She frowned at me, eyes resting on my purse before traveling back to my face. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I said. I leaned against the wall in what I hoped was a casual manner, even though I didn’t think I’d ever leaned against a wall in my life. “What do you want?”
“I can’t find my iPod. Did you take it?”
“No,” I said shortly, resisting the urge to tell her that I wouldn’t have touched her iPod, as it was filled solely with ballet music and the terrible band she was obsessed with, The Bentley Boys, three brothers with perfectly windswept bangs and dubious musical gifts. “Go ask Mom.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, still looking at me suspiciously. Then she pivoted on her toe and stomped out of the kitchen, yelling as she went. “Mom!”
I crossed the rest of the kitchen and had just reached for the back door when it swung open, making me jump back. My older brother, Warren, was struggling through it, laden with a bakery box and a tray of to-go coffees. “Morning,” he said.
“Hi,” I muttered, looking longingly past him to the outside, wishing that I’d tried to make my escape five minutes earlier—or, even better, had just used the front door.
“Mom sent me for coffee and bagels,” he said, as he set both on the counter. “You like sesame, right?”
I hated sesame—in fact, Warren was the only one of us who liked them—but I wasn’t going to point that out now. “Sure,” I said quickly. “Great.”
Warren selected one of the coffees and took a sip. Even though at nineteen he was only two years older than me, he was dressed, as usual, in khakis and a polo shirt, as though he might at any moment be called upon to chair a board meeting or play a round of golf. “Where is everyone?” he asked after a moment.
“No idea,” I said, hoping that he’d go investigate for himself. He nodded and took another sip, as though he had all the time in the world. “I think I heard Mom upstairs,” I said after it became clear that my brother intended to while away the morning sipping coffee and staring into space.
“I’ll tell her I’m back,” he said, setting his coffee down, just as I’d hoped he would. Warren headed toward the door, then stopped and turned back to me. “Is he up yet?”
I shrugged. “Not sure,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, like this was just a routine question. But only few weeks ago, the idea of my father still being asleep at this hour—or for that matter, still home—would have been unthinkable.
Warren nodded again and headed out of the kitchen. As soon as he was gone, I bolted for the door.
I hurried down our driveway and, when I made it to the sidewalk, let out a long breath. Then I started speed-walking down Greenleaf Road as quickly as possible. I probably should have taken a car, but some things were just habit, and the last time I’d snuck out, I’d been years away from getting my license.
I could feel myself start to calm down the farther I walked. The rational part of my brain was telling me that I’d have to go back at some point, but I didn’t want to listen to the rational part of my brain right now. I just wanted to pretend that this day—this whole summer—wasn’t going to have to happen, something that got easier the more distance I put between myself and the house. I’d been walking for a while and had just started to dig in my bag for my sunglasses when I heard a metal jangling sound and looked up.
My heart sank a little as I saw Connie from the white house across the street, walking her dog and waving at me. She was around my parents’ age, and I’d known her last name at some point, but couldn’t recall it now. I dropped my sunglass case in my bag next to what I now saw was Gelsey’s iPod (whoops), which I must have grabbed thinking it was mine. There was no avoiding Connie without blatantly ignoring her or turning and running into the woods. And I had a feeling either of these options was behavior that might make it back to my mother immediately. I sighed and made myself smile at her as she got closer.
“Taylor, hi!” she called, smiling wide at me. Her dog, a big, dumb-looking golden retriever, strained against his leash toward me, panting, tail wagging. I looked at him and took a small step away. We’d never had a dog, so though I liked them in theory, I hadn’t had all that much experience with them. And even though I watched the reality show Top Dog much more than someone who didn’t actually own a dog should, this didn’t help when confronted with one in the real world.
“Hi, Connie,” I said, already starting to edge away, hoping she’d get the hint. “Nice to see you!”
“You too,” she replied automatically, but I saw her smile fade a little as her eyes traveled over my face and outfit. “You’re looking a bit different today,” she said. “Very… relaxed.”
Since Connie normally saw me in my Stanwich Academy uniform—white blouse and itchy plaid skirt—I had no doubt I looked different now, as I’d pretty much just rolled out of bed, not even bothering to brush my hair, and was wearing flip-flops, cutoffs, and a much-washed white T-shirt that read LAKE PHOENIX SWIM TEAM. The shirt technically wasn’t mine, but I’d appropriated it so many years ago that I now just thought of it as my property.
“I guess so,” I said to Connie, making sure to keep a smile on my face. “Well…”
“Any big plans for the summer?” she asked brightly, apparently completely unaware that I was trying to end this conversation. The dog, maybe realizing this was going to take a while, flopped down at her feet, resting his head on his paws.
“Not really,” I said, hoping that might be the end of it. But she continued to look at me, eyebrows raised, so I stifled a sigh and went on. “We’re actually leaving today to spend the summer at our lake house.”
“Oh, wonderful!” she gushed. “That sounds lovely. Whereabouts is it?”
“It’s in the Poconos,” I said. She frowned, as though trying to place the name, and I added, “The Pocono Mountains. In Pennsylvania?”
“Oh, right,�
she said, nodding, though I could tell from her expression that she still had no idea what I was talking about, which wasnât actually that unexpected. Some of my friendsâ families had summer houses, but they tended to be in places like Nantucket or Cape Cod. Nobody else I knew had a summer house in the mountains of northeastern Pennsylvania.
âWell,â Connie said, still smiling brightly. âA lake house! That should be nice.â
I nodded, not really trusting myself to answer, since I didnât want to go back to Lake Phoenix. I so didnât want to go back that I had snuck out of the house with practically no plan and no supplies except my sisterâs iPod, rather than face going there.
âSo,â Connie said, tugging on the dogâs leash, causing him to lumber to his feet, âbe sure to say hello to your mother and father for me! I hope theyâre both doing well, andââ She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening and cheeks reddening slightly. I recognized the signs immediately, even though Iâd only been seeing them for three weeks. She had Remembered.
It was something that I had no idea how to handle, but as an unexpected upside, it was something that seemed to be working in my favor. Somehow, overnight, everyone in school seemed to know, and my teachers had been informed, though why or by whom, Iâd never been sure. But it was the only explanation for the fact that Iâd aced all my finals, even in classes like Trig, which Iâd been dangerously close to getting a C in. And if that wasnât enough proof, when my English teacher had passed out our exams, sheâd set mine down on my desk and rested her hand on it for just a minute, causing me to look up at her.
âI know that studying must be hard for you right now,â sheâd murmured, as though the entire class wasnât listening, ears straining for every syllable. âSo just do your best, all right, Taylor?â
And Iâd bitten my lip and done the Brave Nod, aware the whole time that I was pretending, acting the way I knew she expected me to act. And sure enough, Iâd gotten an A on the test, even though Iâd only skimmed the end of The Great Gatsby.
